Oh, Instagram. It took me forever to figure out that it wasn't Facebook. I mean, I obviously KNEW the difference - but you know what I mean. If someone Friend requests me on Facebook without annnnny sort of mutual connections ("Did we at least go to high school together? Grow up in the same town? Are you a friend of my mom's?"), I immediately feel violated. "How did they FIND me?", I think. Like I just caught them with a telescope peeping through my bedroom window. (Sometimes even if there is a mutual connection, I think to myself: "Why are they adding me? Do I KNOW them? Did we meet once and I forgot?") But Instagram? Haha. That's totally fine. Follow me. Ask your friends to follow me. Encourage random strangers to follow me. FOLLOW ME. I NEED MORE FOLLOWERS.
If you're a fashion blogger, you're probably already on the 'gram, and you probably already have more followers than I do. (Maybe because I just referred to it as "the 'gram".) Anyway - my goal right now I'm trying to break 300.
Not 300k. Not 300 million --- (haha, does ANYONE have 300 million?) I have THREE. HUNDRED. followers. Well - actually, no I don't, I'm trying to GET 300 followers. I've been batting around 287-295 all summer. I don't know if I can even call myself a 'blogger' at this point, even people who set their accounts to private and only follow friends and family have more followers than I do. When I hit 300, I should buy balloons and throw myself a party. You know, like the real bloggers do after they've hit substantial numbers.
Fashion bloggers consider Instagram to be a faucet of their business. They have a fashion blog on the Internet - they post pictures of themselves wearing a bunch of different outfits, what better way to advertise that than Insta? It probably helps them to get a ton of new followers. I say "probably" because they have thousands, and I have - ALMOST - 300. But I also don't post as many #ootds. Mostly because my "photographer" is my boyfriend and it is a special occasion when I can get him to take a picture of me. I purposely try to look extra fashion-y when we go out, so that I can pull him aside as we're leaving a restaurant and say "Hey, can I be weird for a second? Will you take a picture of me looking out into traffic?" And he says "Ugh." and then gives me two minutes to be weird, because he loves me.